


Put Your Money On Me

by AndreaLyn



Category: Roswell New Mexico (TV 2019)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Fake/Pretend Relationship, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-07
Updated: 2019-08-07
Packaged: 2020-08-11 15:24:15
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,761
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20155798
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AndreaLyn/pseuds/AndreaLyn
Summary: Alex needs a fake boyfriend to prevent his Air Force buddies from setting him up with someone, post-DADT repeal. It's obvious that Michael is the best choice, but what isn't obvious to either Alex or Michael is that it's not quite as fake as either one of them thinks it is.





	Put Your Money On Me

**Author's Note:**

> This goes canon divergent right around when Alex gets back from his first tour and this is a fill for a tumblr prompt that got out of hand (as they so often do). 
> 
> The song playing later on is [Let's Go Out Tonight](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=tWj1AboQZU0%22) by Craig Armstrong. Title comes from Arcade Fire's "Put Your Money On Me".

It’s the weirdest day that Michael’s had in years, which is saying something considering he’s an alien who crash-landed in Roswell and has been trying his best to get the hell out ever since he figured out he could.

Somehow, though, what Alex is proposing is _so_ much stranger.

“Let me get this straight,” Michael says, and can’t help his smirk, because there’s absolutely nothing _straight_ about this. “You’re back from your first tour of duty and after they got rid of DADT, everyone loves you so much in your unit that they want to fix you up and give you a happy ending, but instead of letting them do that, you’re here asking me to pose as your fake boyfriend. For two hundred dollars,” he adds, because that part feels pretty important.

Alex tips his head to the side, squinting as he thinks about Michael’s words, like he needs to review them. “Correct.”

“You have friends now who actually want to see you happy, but you’re standing outside your ex-boyfriends’ trailer…”

“Which is really nice and I like what you’ve done with it,” Alex interrupts. 

Michael holds up a hand. “Seriously, this is the first thing you want to say to me in four years? This?” he asks, scrunching up his nose. “You want me to pretend to be your boyfriend for the first time even though we never really figured it out last time and…why? Why would you think I even want to be around you?”

Never mind that it’s the only thing he wants to do, but he needs to try and save face.

Even though Alex took off running, choosing his father over Michael at the end of that summer, Michael still wants him. Even though Michael’s hand is damaged by Jesse Manes’ hand, he _still wants him_, which is a knock against Michael, not Alex. 

The fact that Alex is standing here and asking for this is a knock against him.

“I don’t really want to think about dating anyone right now,” Alex admits, looking anywhere but at Michael.

“You could have asked someone else in town.”

“Not really,” Alex points out. “It’s not like Wyatt Long would’ve happily taken the money. Most people we went to school with are still finishing up their degrees right now, and if I want to actually convince them, taking Maria with me to this thing won’t do it. Help me, Michael Guerin, you’re my only hope?”

Two hundred dollars is enough to feed him for a few weeks and maybe even help towards the AC unit he’s been meaning to get for the Airstream. Sighing, Michael weighs the money against the very real danger sign that pretending to date your ex-boyfriend (and the guy you’re still in love with) is a very, very bad idea.

“What do I have to do?” Michael asks, sinking down into one of the lawn chairs and accepting his fate.

He’d pretend to be Alex’s boyfriend for two dollars, so long as it meant that he got to be with him. It’s probably better if he doesn’t admit to that. After all, Michael’s the one who’s supposed to be acting like he doesn’t even want to be seen in the same room as Alex. 

Maybe if he keeps that up, he can get the price higher. 

“I just need them off my back until I leave for my next tour,” Alex says. “They know that you and I have a history,” he says, and he falters here for the first time. It almost makes Michael feel better, because it proves to him that Alex isn’t completely unfeeling and hasn’t been sapped of all of the things that make him so _Alex_. 

It should feel weird to want him to be unsteady about this, but Michael is and that only seems fair. 

“They’d believe it, if I told them that I…” Alex clears his throat. He’s still standing in front of Michael, shifting on his feet. “That you and I…”

“What’s your endgame here, Alex?”

“I don’t want to date anyone,” he reiterates what he said earlier. 

Michael kind of wants to know if that’s a general comment or if he’s got an outside chance of being the exception to the rule, but seeing as Alex is putting money into this situation, he kind of can’t see this becoming a tender reunion. At least, not without Michael giving the money back, which might be a good reason to keep it around.

It protects him from getting his heart crushed as badly as his hand. 

He flexes it and figures that it can’t be so bad. “It’s what, drinks at the Pony?” Alex nods. “Yeah. Okay. I can do that.” Alex looks like he’s about to smile in that way that’ll have Michael melt into a puddle of being willing to do absolutely anything for Alex, so he needs to cut that shit off. “Pay me in small bills,” he jokes, reminding Alex that this isn’t going to be personal.

The minute Alex offered to pay him, it became anything but.

Given that Alex had been the one to bring money into it, he has no reason at all to look as stung and offended as he does. Michael maintains a steady exterior, even if he’s completely freaking out inside.

“I’ll see you tonight, Guerin. Dress decently,” he suggests, his gaze sliding over what Michael is wearing.

“Now, for that, it’s an extra hundred,” Michael quips, watching Alex depart with a shake of his head. 

It’s only when Alex’s truck is off the Foster Ranch property that Michael realizes what he’s done. He just agreed to pretend to be Alex’s boyfriend, for cash, in public. He’s going to be pretending to love Alex in front of all the people they’d tried to hide it from before, which means that he’s about to be more exposed than he has been all his life, at least when it comes to his heart.

Bad idea doesn’t even begin to cover it.

* * *

The night goes well.

It almost goes so well that Michael forgets that he’s being paid to sit here and kiss Alex’s cheek or hold his hand in plain sight. He keeps it chaste, but makes it very clear to Alex’s buddies that he plans to be around, even if it’s long distance, because they keep hinting that maybe this is a temporary thing and they’ll keep an eye out for men when Alex goes back.

“He’s mine,” Michael says, politely but firm, and feels Alex relax beside him. “I’m not planning to let him go.”

It’s a shame that Alex only thinks it’s part of the show, because Michael means it now as much as he’d meant it years ago when Alex had left him the first time, but he hadn’t listened then. Why would Michael expect him to pay attention now? 

It's a shame Alex didn’t want a real boyfriend right before he ran away to the Air Force. 

They stay for another few drinks, even though Michael has the one beer and then switches to water. He really doesn’t trust himself to get drunk around Alex, because he knows he’s likely to get maudlin and start crawling into Alex’s lap to beg him to give him a chance, a real chance. Alex seems to be of the opposite frame of mind and orders a new beer before he’s even finished the last one, which he repeats another four times before the night is done.

They stay until Maria closes up, then the Air Force buddies head off in one cab back to base. There’s a few that clap Michael on the shoulder and tell him that it’s good to meet the man in Alex’s life, seeing as he clearly seems completely enamored with him. Michael glances to the side and looks at Alex, trying to decide if he’s become a good liar or if maybe things between them aren’t as over as he’d thought. 

Michael watches them all pile into a cab, though there’s no room for Alex.

“It’s okay!” Alex protests with a laugh, when one of them tries to tug him in to splay over their laps. “I’ll get the next one, okay?” He stumbles back and closes the door for them. 

Once the cab has driven off, it’s just the two of them standing outside the Pony. Maria’s even shut off the sign, which means she’s doing her nightly float count and then will be making sure even they’re gone. 

“So, that was…” Alex starts awkwardly, swaying under the light of the streetlight. 

They came here separately, which had seemed like a good idea at the time, but now Michael is wishing that they’d driven in together. He wants to see where Alex is living, he wants to deliver him right to his door, and he wants to crowd him in and kiss him until Alex understands exactly how much he belongs to Michael.

Given that Alex looks like he’s had one too many, this is his chance.

“Let me give you a ride, save you the cab fare,” Michael offers. “Come on,” he insists when it looks like Alex might protest. “I only had a beer hours ago to make sure I could keep up with the whole faking it thing.”

Alex sways forward and Michael breathes out. He doesn’t realize until then how badly he’s willing Alex to say yes, but he keeps hoping that Alex will give in. Eventually, it seems like it’s worked when Alex nods. “Sure. Yeah. Okay.”

It’s not exactly the most rousing agreement, but at least he says yes. Michael gets to press a hand to the small of Alex’s back and help him into the truck, fingers brushing up his back as he takes his time with getting him comfortable. Alex gives him directions back to the hotel he’s staying at during his time in Roswell.

When they get there, Michael has to lean over and gently poke Alex back awake. “Hey,” he murmurs. “You fell asleep.”

Sleepily, Alex rubs at his eyes and inhales sharply. “Sorry,” he mumbles. “You made me feel safe.” Michael tries to ignore the pang in his heart that asks how many times Alex has felt unsafe – whether because of his father or the enemy sitting out there. If Michael can give safety by doing nothing more than sitting there, then he’s happy to sit there.

“Tonight wasn’t so bad, was it?” Michael should know better, but he’s an idiot and he’s not going to leave well enough alone.

Alex stares at him and nods, even if he looks pained. “Yeah. I mean, the true test is going to be when I go back. If they don’t try and set me up, then it’ll be worth every dollar. Speaking of,” he mumbles and shifts, digging out an envelope from his vest pocket. 

He hands it over to Michael, who stares at it like it might bite him. 

For a moment, Michael actually forgets about that part of the arrangement. He very nearly opens his mouth to ask what this is for, but then he remembers and he goes silent. It would be worse if he didn’t take the money, if only because he’s not sure he’s ready to get into that well of feelings. 

He takes the envelope and lets it sit in his lap. For a long moment, he can’t do anything but stare at it, but eventually Michael chokes out the, “Thanks.” He folds it in half and shoves it into his jacket. “How long are you around for?”

“I’m here for another month,” Alex replies, his voice so quiet that Michael has to lean over to hear the words.

Michael nods, trying to figure out how to ask if Alex wants to do tonight again. Only, he wants to ask if they can do tonight without the Air Force friends, without the fake dating, and without the money payoff at the end of the night. He’s nodding still, but he’s not saying anything. “Maybe we could grab a drink? You know, as friends,” he hurries to say, because he has a pile of money in his lap that tells him that Alex isn’t interested in dating anyone.

Alex is still too drunk, Michael tells himself. As he stumbles out of the truck, he has to grab onto the door to steady himself. That means that this isn’t the time for Michael to be asking for Alex to come around for drinks.

“Yeah,” Alex says with a shrug. “Why not?”

Or maybe it’s the perfect time. Michael wishes that he didn’t look so surprised, but given how drunk Alex is, he doesn’t think that he’ll notice. Michael stays there in the truck watching him go inside and he sits there in the dark for another ten minutes to collect himself. Tonight had been absolutely perfect, right up until Alex had reminded him how _fake_ it had all been. Now there’s an envelope full of money in his lap that’s a blatant reminder to Michael that no matter what he thought they might have, it’s a sham. 

Still, it’s better than nothing so long as he gets to spend more time with Alex.

* * *

“We fucked up.”

Michael bites his tongue because he didn’t fuck up anything. He’s not the one who walked away when Michael had offered to pack up his things and run away, if only Alex had gone with him. Then again, that’s not entirely true. He fucked up in taking the blame for Isobel. He fucked up throwing away his scholarship. It’s becoming crystal clear that he also fucked up by agreeing to be Alex’s fake-boyfriend.

That’s probably not the best way to start this conversation, though.

“You’re gonna have to explain that one to me,” Michael admits, collapsing back onto the bed in the Airstream now that he’s got the phone pressed to his ear. 

“You were really convincing,” Alex says over the phone. Michael knows he’s got about a week left of his leave because they’ve been meeting up for drinks, which Michael pays for out of the pot that Alex had paid him with. “One of my buddies is getting married at the end of this leave. He gave me a plus-one, with the expectation that you’ll go.”

“So tell them I’m busy.”

“They’ll think we broke up,” Alex protests, sounding meek.

Michael feels like this is a stretch and a half, but as much as he can see through the thinly veiled ask, he’s not entirely sure he’s ready to poke a hole in it. Alex is asking him to spend more time with him, at a wedding, where it’ll be romantic and give Michael an opportunity to really talk to Alex.

“I don’t have a suit.”

“I can pay for that,” Alex says in a hurry. “I’d pay you, again, to go to the wedding with me as my boyfriend, to fake being my boyfriend.”

Michael’s shoulders have gone tense as he thinks about what he’d be agreeing to. He hadn’t installed the air conditioner because he’s been using the money to go out with Alex, so he still could a couple extra bucks, and it wouldn’t hurt to have a suit in his closet for future opportunities. It still feels weird to go on a date with Alex for money. 

For them to go to a wedding seems like the kind of minefield they should avoid.

Instantly, he thinks of the two alternatives. 

Option one, Alex goes on his own and he spends the whole night miserable about the fact that his fake boyfriend dumped him. His friends try and make him feel better, but in the process only make it worse because they’ll be comforting him about an ex-boyfriend that he’d been paying to be present, except he couldn’t even be bought for the wedding.

Option two, Alex takes Michael’s answer at face value and finds someone else to go to the wedding with as a rebound. He’ll still get shit from his friends, but Alex might not have to pay whoever it is that he finds to replace Michael. Maybe they’ll even spend the night together and the rebound part of it won’t be fake. 

Fuck, he hates both those options.

“What time do I need to meet you there?” he asks. 

If nothing else, this is clearly proving that the fake date at the bar had only been the tip of the bad idea iceberg and Michael intends to be the Titanic that it sinks. He goes to Isobel to get a suit for the night, and dismisses any of her questions about why he needs it. He gives her a whole line of excuses, including greatest hits such as:

“I got a job interview.”

And, “I met this new girl and she likes to roleplay business man and secretary in the bedroom.”

Not to be outdone, of course, by, “I made a wish and a fairy made me into a real boy, so now I need a suit so I can pay taxes and let my soul die a slow death.”

Isobel glares at him the whole time, but makes a few calls to rental places to see if they can do some last minute tailoring for him. He’s grateful, he really is, but he also doesn’t think he has it in him to explain to Isobel the depth of the bad idea he’s diving into. It had been one thing to wear casual clothes and go drinking with Alex. 

He's about to go to a _wedding_ with him as his plus-one.

“Hey,” Michael says, when Isobel is shoving him out the door. It might be too late for him to get sincere, but he figures that seeing as she’s pretty much his only friend in town, he has to try. “Iz, what if I really do like someone and this suit is part of a show? What if they asked me to be their date to a wedding, but only a fake one and I’m getting paid to be there so they don’t have to date anyone for real, only I want to be the one they date? For real? And maybe the suit is the first step. How do I even deal with that?”

“Ha ha,” Isobel deadpans. “I get it. You think this is all a joke. Come back when you’re serious, Michael.”

She slams the door in his face, which is rude even for her. 

Okay, then. Short of going to Max for help (and given that they haven’t spoken in months and Max would probably load him up with Russian literature), Michael’s on his own for this one. He adjusts the suit over his shoulder and heads towards town for the emergency alternations so he can get ready for his grand fake date, attending a wedding with the man he’s desperately in love with. 

Yeah. 

Here Michael thought being an alien in Roswell is difficult, he hadn’t known anything.

* * *

The wedding hasn’t been as awful as Michael had been expecting.

True, he’d beginning to suspect that this suit he’s wearing belongs to Max and he knows that come tomorrow, she’s not going to let this go. Still, he looks damn good in it, so he can’t be too upset about the fact that he’s in Max’s suit. Whatever fireworks he’s expecting don’t happen. If anything, it’s the opposite. Michael has never been to a wedding before, but the ceremony is pretty boring, right up until they get to the vows.

That’s when he glances to the side to see Alex staring intently at the couple at the altar, a longing expression on his face. Michael keeps sneaking looks at him, and he could _swear_ that when they finish their vows, there are tears in Alex’s eyes. Eventually, he gets caught looking and stares sheepishly at the program in his lap rather than tell Alex that he’s staring at him because it’s easier than watching the blissful married couple.

If he looked up at them, he might find himself consumed with jealousy. How come they get the fairy-tale happy ending and Michael’s sitting here pretending to be boyfriend to the love of his life?

He knows why. Michael flexes his scarred hand and closes his eyes so he doesn’t have to think about _hope_ and the hammer that smashes it. He still reaches over mid-ceremony to squeeze Alex’s hand when it sounds like he’s getting choked up by the vows, and when the priest tells them that they can kiss, he’s looking at Alex and sees what he thinks is hope reflected right back at him. 

The envelope of money in his suit pocket is burning a hole, but the good news is that Michael has a plan. 

Given how Alex is looking at him, Michael even thinks it might be a smart plan.

After the ceremony, Michael keeps waiting for a wrench to get thrown into his plans. He’s expecting something dramatic to happen, even if he’s not sure what. Maybe Alex will bolt away from him because the wedding is too much or one of Alex’s friends will accuse them of being fake. He’s not sure, but he’s expecting something.

It’s why it’s a shock that things keep going _well_. The copious bottles of wine at dinner help, and Michael keeps them close at hand through the speeches because he might be happy to be here, but given his plan for later, he needs some liquid courage. After the best man’s speech, he definitely notices that Alex is drinking two glasses of water for every one of wine. Maybe he wants to be alert for something?

It’s not to get laid, or else Michael wouldn’t be here as his fake date.

Maybe Michael isn’t the only one with a plan tonight.

He’s about to lean over and ask if Alex is okay when the emcee takes the microphone from the last speaker and announces that it’s time for the first dance. All eyes go to the happy couple, including Alex’s, so Michael eases back to politely applaud and give his full attention to the show. The music is nice, they look great, but it’s all more pageantry that Michael doesn’t really get.

It’s not that he’s never thought about getting hitched. When he was seventeen and had been thinking about Jesse Manes and Alex in the truck, nursing his mangled hand, he’d had a lot of thoughts about running away and getting married, but it definitely wouldn’t have looked like this – all dappled in perfection and twinkling lights.

The music fades from the bride and groom’s song to _Let’s Go Out Tonight_. It’s slow and melodic and unmistakably romantic, which means Michael gets to watch all of Alex’s buddies pull their girlfriends onto the dance floor so they can press close and dance. The single ones look to quickly claim bridesmaids for the dance, so Michael reaches for a new bottle of wine, given that it’s been abandoned in their fleeing and it deserves some attention too.

He’s in the middle of topping up their glasses when he feels the weight of Alex’s gaze on him.

“What?”

Alex flushes when Michael catches his eye, clearing his throat. “Do you,” he starts, “want to dance?” 

Michael doesn’t dance. He’s got no rhythm. People would talk.

There’s any number of excuses that he could pull up, but all he’s thinking about is how the last time they were dressed in suits and there was music playing had been prom. If Valenti hadn’t ruined things, would Alex have asked him then? Every excuse falls away and he nods, letting Alex pull him to his feet so they can join the dance floor with all the other couples.

It's not that Michael has ever cared about any forced roles, so he settles easily into letting Alex lead. 

He rests his palm on Alex’s neck, swaying to the music. Neither of them is bound to do anything fancy like dip the other, but it feels so comfortable to dance with Alex that it makes Michael wonder what it might have been like to do this at prom. 

“I didn’t say it earlier, but you look great,” Alex says quietly. “I knew you could clean up, but even I’m impressed, Guerin.”

Michael ducks his head down, trying not to feel embarrassed, but he’d spent so long trying to make himself look decent. He knows he’s not Alex, who’s stunning in his fitted black suit and silk black tie, but he’s glad he can compete. 

“Guerin, you’ve seriously been so incredible through this,” Alex says, his hand tightening at the small of Michael’s back, bunching up the fabric of his suit jacket. It’ll wrinkle, but that’s the last thing that Michael cares about. “I’ve got the money for you after, for the suit and being here and…” 

He trails off, a pained look on his face.

“I’m glad that you put aside your issue with me to be here for me tonight,” Alex keeps speaking, and Michael thinks back to how he’s been acting. Maybe he’d overcorrected too far in the other direction and had made Alex think that the _only_ way he’d be with him in public is if there’s money being exchanged. “I know it’s not easy…” He trails off, his attention sliding to where Michael’s bad hand rests on Alex’s shoulder. Lip pressed hard to his lower lip, Alex’s brow furrows and he stops, still. “I…”

Michael isn’t sure what the hell is happening, but it’s not good.

“Sorry,” Alex says, and pulls away from Michael. “I can’t do this.” He staggers off the dance floor and if Michael hadn’t been watching him, he might think that he’s drunk. He knows better, though. That’s not Alex being drunk.

That’s Alex finding a reason to walk away from him. 

Michael’s left standing alone on the dance floor like a heartbroken idiot and the only thing that’s in his head is that stupid little voice that’s telling him that Alex just walked away from him _again_. He makes it back to the table, but before he can down the whole bottle of wine, he’s distracted by the view in the corner of his eye.

It’s the bride and groom sitting at their table. She’s in his lap and he’s feeding her wedding cake and they both look so blissfully happy and unaware of anything else in the world. It’s how he feels when he’s with Alex, like nothing else exists. 

What happened along the way that Michael started putting other people before himself? How can Alex be back, but he’ll only fake date Michael because that’s what Michael thinks needs to happen? 

He’s not exactly old, but he thinks that the mistakes he made at seventeen shouldn’t be shaping his life. Michael needs to stop being an asshole and he needs to let Alex know what’s really going on in his head or he thinks he’s going to regret it forever. He’s an adult now, and if he doesn’t get his act together, his whole life might pass him by in a haze of regrets.

Michael swallows his pride and grabs the sleeve of one of Alex’s buddies – Anders, he thinks. “Hey,” he says, his voice rough. “You seen Alex?”

Anders nods back behind him towards the little pond. “I saw him in the gazebo. He looks pretty rough, you guys okay?”

“Weddings, man,” Michael says, feeling the words ringing false. “They’re emotional things, especially for Alex.” He leaves the wine, checks his pocket, and heads out towards the little pond to find Alex sitting there on the gazebo’s bench. There are twinkling lights framing the trellis and the wood, and they cast a starlit glow on Alex. 

Even without eyeliner softening his eyes, he’s easily the most precious and beautiful thing that Michael has ever seen in his life.

“Hey,” Michael calls, to get Alex’s attention when he’s a few steps away. He can see how Alex’s shoulders stiffen, which makes Michael feel like shit. He keeps advancing, the wooden slats creaking under his boots, especially as Michael sways from heel to toe, running a hand through his hair. “You okay?”

“Sorry,” Alex murmurs, his voice rough. “I know you’re only here because I paid for you to be. I know that this is fake, and it’s on me that I’m reading too much into this. It’s just…you look at me and I’m seventeen again and the boy I’m in love with wants to kiss me.” He sounds wistful and tired, his posture slumping forward.

Michael takes the last few steps so he can sit down beside Alex. 

“You’re not,” is what he says, feeling raw and exposed to say it.

“What?”

“You’re not reading too much into it,” Michael says, fumbling to get into his suit jacket pocket. He digs out the envelope, not needing to double-check it. He’d gone to the ATM and had made sure that every single dollar that Alex has paid him is in there. 

Now, he hands it back to him.

“I don’t understand, Guerin.”

Michael can’t help his wry laugh. “You’re seriously one of the smartest people I know. Alex, you do.” Maybe he doesn’t want to accept it, but he understands. “I’m sorry I was an asshole, but when you left four years ago, it hurt. Everything hurt. So when you came back and told me that you wanted me to be your fake boyfriend, I was willing to do anything to make that happen, even accept that you wanted to pay me for it, but I can’t do that anymore, Alex.”

He lets go of the envelope and sets it in Alex’s lap.

“I wanna repay my debt so there isn’t anything between us. The bar, the phone calls, the hangouts, none of it was fake for me. Nothing tonight has been fake for me and neither is this…” He thinks he won’t be pushed back, so Michael cups Alex’s neck and leans in to kiss Alex softly, letting every ounce of fear dissipate in the way Alex shifts back and then responds.

He grabs a handful of Michael’s curls, kissing him back with this sound that could have Michael on his knees –a desperate little sob, as if he can’t believe what’s happening. It only encourages Michael to kiss him harder, grabbing Alex’s lapel so he can pull him closer, eager to try and make up for all the kisses they’ve missed over the last four years.

When Michael backs away, his gaze is half-lidded and the twinkling lights make it look like Alex is _unreal_. He exhales and it feels like a weight has fallen from his shoulders. There’s one last heaviness left, though, and it’s something Michael hasn’t been able to shake. 

“Stay,” Michael pleads quietly, once he’s eased back and he’s found his voice again. “Please don’t go back.”

“I committed to another tour, Michael,” Alex tells him quietly. “I can’t go back on that.”

Michael’s face falls and he bows his head, not wanting Alex to see how much it hurts to hear that. What he’s not expecting is the way Alex slides his fingers over Michael’s forearm, lightly grasps him by the elbow, and pulls him back in towards him. It’s the complete opposite of how Alex usually walks away from him and it leaves him breathless.

“I can commit to you, too. There’s nothing stopping us,” he says quietly. “I owe them one more tour. Then, I could owe you the rest of my life.”

“You don’t owe me anything,” Michael protests quietly, pressing his forehead to Alex’s so he won’t see the desperate look on his face, because he _wants_ that more than he’s wanted anything. He makes a face, because that’s not entirely right. “Okay. Maybe that’s not true. I think you owe me one thing.”

“Yeah?” When Alex breathes out and Michael breathes in, it’s like they’re sharing the same breath, like they’re connected. “What’s that?”

Michael closes his eyes and lets every ounce of worry slide out of him as he slides his fingers over Alex’s neck, down his back, and over his arms. “You think you can give us a chance to figure out if this is real?”

It's clearly the right thing to say. Alex grins as he tucks the money back inside his suit jacket and crawls into Michael’s lap. “I think,” is low and promising in how his voice rumbles over the words, “that’s the least I can do.”

* * *

“Hey,” Alex says, in the middle of brushing his teeth, “so, my buddies are coming back to town this week.”

Michael glances up from where he’s reading the book that Isobel has been making him read for book club, smirking as he replies with something that’s bound to get him in trouble. “And you need a fake boyfriend?”

He definitely deserves to have something thrown at him, but Michael lets out a shocked cry of protest when it turns out to be their engagement photo. The heavy frame nicks his stomach and makes him flinch in protest. He glares at Alex, but it doesn’t seem to do much, seeing as Alex smirks as he goes back to brushing his teeth, his smugness reflected in the bathroom mirror. 

Michael grins and takes the picture to set it on the nightstand with care, sliding his feet to the floor so he can approach Alex from behind, brushing kisses to his neck. “Sorry,” he whispers. “I meant my fake fiancé.”

“You say the word fake one more time and it won’t be a fake break-up,” Alex warns, spitting the toothpaste out. 

Michael bends to press a slow kiss to Alex’s neck, taking his time to brush his lips over Alex’s earlobe, then down the expanse of offered skin when Alex tips his head to the side, h is eyes falling shut. “Then,” Michael murmurs, his voice low, “how about you get in bed and I give you very real orgasms,” he suggests, fingers slipping into Alex’s sweatpants to tug him flush against Michael’s body, “and we can talk about going out for drinks with your friends after.”

Alex swallows hard, his Adam’s apple bouncing, and Michael grins when Alex pushes him back towards the bed. 

The three climaxes that Michael gets Alex to are definitely, absolutely, _completely_ real and not a single cent has to pass hands for it to happen.

Now that, as far as he’s concerned, is a good relationship.


End file.
